


A Tale of Claws and Fangs (Incomplete)

by spiritualturtle



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, F/F, F/M, Imprinting, M/M, Vampire Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Werewolf Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Werewolf Jesse McCree, Werewolf Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Witch Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, frostimp!sombra, kirin!hanzo, moicyvspharmercy, probably gonna pick Moicy, still don't know which one I'm going to do, supernaturalau, vampire!moira
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 10:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21896350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiritualturtle/pseuds/spiritualturtle
Summary: This is just pretty much Lena being a hopeless romantic and like all of my other fics, I have no idea where this is going to go.This fic has been stopped due to similarities with a past work and in respect for the author of said work, I won't be continuing.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, Lena "Tracer" Oxton/Widowmaker | Amélie Lacroix, Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Other Relationship Tags to Be Added
Comments: 12
Kudos: 50





	1. Once Upon An- Oh Shit

The world was full of secrets, most are never to see the light of day. What was the true identity of the infamous Jack the Ripper? Where is Cleopatra’s tomb? Were the creatures of myth and legends walking amongst the civilians? Whilst many of the world’s secrets may never be proven or solved, one was certainly true. Lena Oxton knew this all too well, she was a part of it. Another world that walked alongside humans, the legends of werewolves and vampires all too real although hidden from the untrained eye. Each species had learnt to keep their existence under wraps, from never breaching the surface, to consulting witches and warlocks in acquiring a glamour to hide their true form. For a few of the more humanoid creatures, it was easy blending into society, although acquiring jobs and making a normal life for themselves proved to be tougher. It wasn’t a rare occurrence when a turf war broke out between two species, normally blood was shed but for whatever reason, the amount of blood never rose the alarm to the humans, or the growling, the snarling, not even the screams. Some theorized that they couldn’t hear it, but either way, it all contributed to keep hidden. 

Lena didn’t have to try so hard in creating a facade for herself, she had honed her skills to only show her true form at will, not like some pesky pup. All with the exception of the full moon, but other than that she was coveted. At first glance, she didn’t look like a werewolf but upon closer inspection, the crooked smile, the longer canines and the bright brown eyes that seemed to glow under the twilight as well as the tribal tattoo that occupied the space of her upper arm, it made sense. She was a lone wolf, no longer having a pack and in order to make ends meet, she had resorted to being a guard dog for a tavern, which was conveniently called ‘The Lone Wolf’, in homage to the terrifying security system. Humans could wander in and out of the tavern during the day but once dusk hit, to the naked and untrained eye it was closed to the public. It became full of life, dancing and a ton of drinking. Full of the supernatural who wanted to let their hair down. But that was back in its glory days, since having to relocate closer to the city suburbs it had become a spot for hungry demons and thirsty vampires. The witch who doubled as a bartender had the best of the best blood, souls and every other item of consumption on the east side of London. The now smaller tavern was open to the humans during the day and the creatures of the night once the sun fell across the horizon. Lena did her runs during the day, picking up and dropping off a variety of weird and wacky potions and ingredients. She never complained, she got the best food in the whole of Britain, well, that was her opinion. 

Due to having the best of the best, The Lone Wolf was always a target for robberies. Poorly covens trying to raid the small tavern for its blood supply and desperate demons trying to claim the jars of souls that the witch had stashed away. They tried, but with Lena prowling the premises, no one ever breached. During the night, she mostly waited tables and wiped down the benches but when the nights were busy, she stood in her wolf form. For such a petite woman, she measured in at just over five foot at her withers, her jaws stretching so wide she could fit a minotaurs head in her mouth with ease. Her hazelnut fur tinted with blue under the light rippled in waves when the air conditioning unit was on, her paws so big she could suffocate someone just by pushing on their throat. Werewolves were uncommon around the city suburbs, preferring to prowl the dense forestry of the British countryside, so to say she struck fear into most was an understatement. On those busy nights, she would lay beside the bar, her eyes scanning everyone who walked in, documenting their every move. To prevent Lena from leaving the agreement prematurely or without consulting the witch first, she done a black leather collar that stretched and shrunk depending on her form. On its tag had the agreement etched into it, as well as having her name on the front. What’s a dog tag that didn’t have the name of the dog who wore it? Should she try and take it off, it would give a controlled zap to her fingers, reminding her of her duties to serve the witch. 

To Lena, the day time was boring. Sitting up at the bar, her back and elbows against the edge of the bench as she was propped up on the stool, she looked over at the fellows who had stumbled in. Their stories were boring, always about the loss of a love or a loss of a job. She could die of boredom, right there and then. The witch, blonde and fair in appearance, set down a tray with four pony glasses of vodka taking up the space. 

“Table 6, just keep an eye on them, I may have to kick them out soon,” the woman grumbled slightly in annoyance, looking over at the table of men who were playing cards. 

The witch, who had the name Angela also didn’t enjoy the daytime hours. It was slow, uneventful, but it brought in money and that’s all that mattered. She wore, much like Lena, a pair of black dress pants, a pair of heeled boots and a white button-up that was tucked into her pants. But unlike the witch, Lena wore a pair of men’s dress shoes, her sleeves were always rolled up and the top two buttons of her shirt were always undone. 

Lena huffed, sliding off the stool and placing the tray on the tops of her fingers before walking over to the table and setting the glasses down, one in front of each man, walking back to the bar after tucking the tray under her arm before they could try anything with her. 

It felt like forever and a day before the sunset and Angela had requested that the current occupants leave, and they did promptly. Lena quickly wiped down all the tables and mop the floors whilst the tavern was closed for a brief hour to restock. Once Angela reopened the tavern, it slowly filled with customers. Lena stayed in her human form, waiting tables and cleaning up as per usual. All until a new face strode into the building. Tall, curvy, as pale as the moon that now lit up the sky, dark blue-purple hair pulled back into a rough bun with tendrils of hair framing her face. She wore a black dress with a deep v neck and a high split on the side. All her tattoos were visible, and they were gorgeous. Lena couldn’t pick up her scent, she couldn’t identify what she was. Either way, she was stunning. Her golden eyes scanned the room, walking up to the bar and taking a seat. Angela served her a glass of their finest red wine dumping in half a vial of blood in the process. 

“Merci,” the woman said quietly, her hand reaching up and cradling the wind glass as she lifted it to her lips. 

Lena heard the woman speak and immediately swooned. She got closer, taking in her scent and then immediately tensed, growling. Vampire. There were very few allowed into the building due to past events. What gave this ridiculously good looking vampire the right to walk in like she owned the place. 

Angela spotted Lena and picked up on how tense she was. She whistled, Lena’s ears popping up from her hazelnut locks and pricked towards the witch’s voice, walking over. 

“Relax, jongen, she’s not here to cause trouble,” she spoke softly in an attempt to calm down the werewolf. 

With a nod and a snort, she smiled once again, “sorry luv, didn’t mean to assume,” she said, looking towards the woman, “the name’s Lena, pleasure to meet ya.”

Those devilishly thirsty eyes looked Lena over, a low purr leaving her throat, “Amelie and the pleasure is all mine, chérie.”

That was when Lena felt something deep within her chest, a strong urge to protect the clearly able woman in front of her, even if it meant her own untimely death. This blood-sucking parasite, so radiant and regal. So, lethal. 

A frost imp skipped over, grinning from ear to ear as she draped herself over the vampire, "Amelie! Cómo está mi sanguijuela favorita?"

Lena felt a low growl leave her lips and that's when it struck her. Wide-eyed, red cheeked and stiff. 

The bloody idiot had imprinted on her.


	2. A Vampire Will Always Suck, But Do They Always Swallow?

Life had never been easy or fair, not for Lena. An orphaned pup with a weak heart brought in by a mismatched pack that had shifters as well as werewolves, everyone was always all over the place. But when a monster hunter ripped through the small village in the middle of the woods, Lena felt something she had never felt before. Sure, she had experienced the loss of her parents, but to her, they didn't feel like family, they were a distant memory. The pack were her family, they dressed her wounds, they offered a safe space, food. Although the only time she felt repressed was when the alpha found that she wasn't fond of men. She had experienced flings in her early teens, but it was after said flings that she decided that men were just not for her. She could still remember the argument, the main reason being she 'couldn't start a new pack'. Well, he certainly wasn't wrong. She didn't think life could get any harder until that woman walked into the tavern that night. Her pale, blue-tinted skin shining under the yellow lighting, her hair perfectly framing her oh so perfect face. She was drop-dead gorgeous, but Lena was an idiot. A wolf's imprint is supposed to be for someone special, not some scarily attractive parasite. Vampires were pretty much indestructible, what was her purpose going to be? There was no point trying to protect her, there wasn't ever a threat. Not only that, the mysterious woman seemed to be of a higher power. She wasn't an elder, but she wasn't a fledgling. Either way, her voice rippled through Lena like an electric shock, she hated it but she always went back for more. 

Amelie's visits were only fortnightly, always ordering the same wine with the vial of blood mixed through. Angela warned Lena to stay away and when the vampire walked into the building, requested that she shifted and laid by her feet behind the bar. It was hard, but Lena managed to stick the night out until her visits became more frequent. The witch kept her on a tight leash, making sure to keep her busy to distract her from the ever-growing instinct to lay by the woman. It didn't help that Angela assumed Amelie did it for fun, coming in on alternating nights to tease the pup, seething each time she walked through that door. The witch was right about one thing, Amelie was playing a game. She would toy with Lena, trying to hail her whenever her glass was empty but the wolf merely put her head down and walked in the other direction. Being on the opposite side of the supernatural spectrum, Amelie didn't understand Lena's odd behaviour on their rare encounters. For one, she would appear flustered, then brash and on edge, growling under her breath only to go back to being flustered once the supposed threat passed on. She was rather cute, but rather annoying also. She could tell the younger woman had something for her, she could read her like a book but could never understand her behaviour. 

Much like now, she was poised in a booth, quietly scanning the room. She hadn't fed for almost a week and had been recovering from an injury after another entity attacked her on her way home one day. Lena was looking quite appetising, a low purr leaving her throat. She hailed for her, the wolf walking over. 

“Another one, Madame Lacroix?” She asked, extending a hand to pick up the glass before Amelie grabbed her wrist firmly and yanked her forward. 

Amelie’s lips curled into a smirk as she pulled the woman forward, locking her lips up to yours, “hmm, I think I’d like to try something new,” she said after pulling away. 

With bright red cheeks, Lena was speechless. If her tail had been present, it would be wagging at a million miles per hour to match her heart rate. She gave a slight nod, Amelie humming in approval and standing, not letting go of Lena’s wrist. Angela watched her, turning on the locater in the pup’s collar as her eyes followed the pair out. She would chew Lena out later, for now, she had to learn her lesson not to go after everyone woman who laid a finger on her. Although this was different, she had imprinted on her. Perhaps she may be okay, either way, the witch would know shortly. The vampire led her new plaything to an alleyway before catching her off guard, her hand gathering both of the other’s wrists and slamming her up against the wall. Lena felt her head hit the bricks and she winced, giving out a slight groan. Amelie kissed the woman once again, but this time was quick to trail down her jawline and to her neck. 

The werewolf’s heartbeat felt like it was going to leap right out of her chest and take a walk, but she knew if it didn’t calm down fast she would suffer the repercussions in the morning. As long as it didn’t last long, she should be okay, or so she thought. A sharp pain originated from her neck, her eyes widening as it travelled up her neck and down her arm, a snarl forming deep in her throat as she shoved the bloodsucker from her being. It was too easy, Amelie had unhinged from the other’s flesh quickly, a bitter taste filling her mouth as she landed on her behind, glaring. 

“The fuck was that?!” Lena growled, her hand covering the two shallow punctures on her neck. 

Amelie rose a hand to her face, wiping the blood from her mouth and smearing her lipstick in the process, “what in the nine circles do you eat?” She asked with a hiss, standing. 

“I eat what everyone else eats,” she snarled, “shoulda expected that from a bloody parasite,” she fixed her shirt and straightened herself out, fixing her hair and walking back to the tavern. 

The woman just watched, shaking her head and walking back to her estate. Wolves, so brash and predictable with such a horrible diet, but she was desperate and that small amount of blood would do her until the morning. As Lena walked back into the tavern, Angela was quick to walk over and see if she was okay. 

“I’m fine Ange,” she brushed the blonde off, going to the bathrooms all the while grumbling.

The witch frowned, wanting to follow but of course couldn’t leave her station. She would talk to her later. She proceeded to clean glasses, serving customers and dealing with clients who came for her services rather than her alcohol. Another vampire approached the bar, although this one wasn’t warded off. Tall and lanky, she could tower a wendigo if she wanted. Blazing red locks and bi-coloured eyes caught the blonde’s gaze as they dimly glowed. They were certainly something else, they were mesmerising and perfectly accompanied by freckles across her nose and cheeks, also a few on her forehead. She slid onto the stool with ease, with a grace that no one would assume from the towering woman. Her clothing sent Angela’s face into a flurry of red, a grey button-up tucked into a pair of black jeans, or were they dress pants? She couldn’t quite tell. The shirt was unbuttoned most if not all of the way down, the pale skin underneath seemingly glowing under the lighting with sparse freckles able to be seen. 

‘So she wears button-up shirts like that all the time? Rather peculiar,’ Angela thought to herself before finally snapping out of her gaze and smiling, “what could I get for you?”

“A scotch on ice, if I could,” the woman spoke, a thick Irish accent lacing her words. 

Angela nodded, “not a problem,” she turned, grabbing a glass and filled it with ice before adding a shot of scotch to it, setting it in front of the newcomer whilst her other hand gently took the coins the Irishwoman handed her. 

She had never seen such a lean vampire, in all honesty, she was as flat as a board but who was to say she wasn’t attractive? Those eyes could pierce into souls and that’s exactly what they did to Angela but the sound of a snicker snapped her out of her trance once again, looking to see Lena had cleaned herself up and chucked on her signature cheery, crooked yet cocky smile. The witch would ask her what happened but for now, tables needed cleaning. 

Throwing a cloth at Lena’s face, the werewolf was quick to whip it off her face and grabbed the spray bottle before heading out to the floor and spraying down tables. 

“Got yourself a dog have you?” The Irishwoman looked up over at her, “I’ve never known for a witch to utilize the help of a lycan.”

“It’s a mutual trade-off, I offer food and a place to stay, in turn, she acts as an errand dog and a guard dog,” Angela explained, doing up a round of Jägerbombs for a table as she spoke.

The redhead nodded, setting her glass down on the padded bar mat in front of her. She gave her thanks and slid off of the stool, “I will see you tomorrow.”

“Is that a promise?” Angela asked, her voice coy. 

“Would you like it to be?” The vampire flashed a smirk, placing a ten dollar tip under the glass and walking out of the tavern. 

Lena threw the now dirty cloth at Angela, “what was the rule about not wooin' customers or clients?”

She caught it mid-air and threw it into a bucket that sat below the bar, “that rule was entirely for you and for your information, I didn’t do the wooing,” she said with a sigh. 

“I haven’t seen ya swoon like that since the last time that Egyptian wolf walked in 'ere,” Lena teased.

“It is quite the shame about her, hopefully, she’ll make a return, I miss her company,” Angela sat a clean set of glasses on a rack. 

The other shook her head, “ya miss 'er fingers and 'er mouth-”

That remark copped Lena a smack from a clean tea towel, causing her to wince slightly and flinch away.

“Lena! Ik zou je mond moeten wassen met zeep!” The woman exclaimed. 

“English, luv, English.”

Angela waved a hand, dismissing the snickering wolf as she delivered a stray of final shots to a table before mumbling, “you aren’t entirely wrong.”

The brunette’s ears pricked and she laughed, shaking her head as she began to mop the floors as closing approached. Angela kindly asked everyone to leave fifteen minutes before closing, herding the flock of drunken sheep to the doors before closing and locking them shut.

“Now, sit,” she walked over to Lena, pulling out a chair and gesturing to it. 

Reluctantly, Lena sat, her hands in between her legs as she hunched forward. 

“What happened?” Angela asked.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Madame Lacroix dragged you outside and only you return, with a rather sour attitude might I add.”

“Nothing happened,” she went to stand but was shoved back down. 

“Talk, now, otherwise you’re on the streets tonight.”

Lena snarled, “fine, fine. She bit me, happy?”

Angela sighed, shaking her head, “you trusted her too much-”

“Yeah, I know! I made a bloody mistake I get it,” she scowled, standing up and turning the chair around and tucking it into the table before walking up the stairs. 

The witch huffed, shaking her head and grabbing her coat before leaving out the back door and lighting a cigarette. It was like watching over a stubborn child melded with an eight-week-old puppy with the sex drive of a bitch in heat. It was a nightmare, but it was her nightmare and she would never change it for the world. This just reminded her to never have children, Lena was a handful on her own.


	3. Not Continuing.

It has come to my attention that this work is fairly similar to another, therefore I won't be continuing it in respect for the author of the work I'm referring to. 

Thank you to the person that commented on the last chapter, I did quite enjoy the work, although your foul attitude was less than desirable. 

Ta-ta.


End file.
